Cat's Cradle
by Raz
Summary: Sequel to Force of Habit. While Yohji seeks to recover his past and unlock his powers, the rest of Weiss must flee Japan. But are they simply heading to their deaths? YxR
1. Chapter One

Cat's Cradle: Chapter One

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the second part of a trilogy that began with Force of Habit. You are strongly urged to read that before starting on this one as I have a tendency to introduce new characters and twist things more than a little. In short, this will probably make no sense otherwise (and I really hope those who read Habit will be able to follow this – my mind has a habit of making leaps in logic that my typing doesn't always keep up with).  As in Force of Habit this fic will contain swearing, violence, yaoi and gratuitous use of literary references and foreign languages. Oh yeah this mainly took so long because a certain redhead is sulking at losing his blond playmate and refused to co-operate with my muse. So I decided on some added ick just to make things really unpleasant for Ran. That'll teach him.

Inside nowhere gets so cold here 

_Trapped in this reflection of me_

_Kiss me gently, screw me, rent me_

_All I want is all I can see._

_This is all I ever thought I'd never feel_

_When I dream about you feels like it's for real_

_Now I'm lost without you, I'm still waiting here_

_Eternity, you're so pretty_

_Dressed in black so fashionably_

_I'm too easy, touch me, tease me_

_Blow me into infinity_

_This is all I ever thought I'd never feel_

_When I dream about you feels like it's for feel_

_Now I'm lost without you, I'm still waiting here_

_Still here_

HALO, Still here.

The target had been dispatched with little difficultly. Abyssinian withdrew the sword in one smooth movement and allowed the body to slump to the floor in a growing pool of blood. He watched the spread of crimson for another moment or two before turning back to the door he had entered the room by. There was still the wife to find and eliminate.

Bombay and Siberian were currently occupied with the mansion's small but effective security guards, leaving the corrupt politician and his wife to Abyssinian's sword. He shook the worst of the blood from the blade with a deft flick of his wrist, causing the dark fluid to splatter across the expensive wallpaper that decorated the corridor he walked down. He was in no particular hurry, the intelligence he'd been briefed with had informed him that the remaining Hanashi-san would be fast asleep in the bedroom, courtesy of a hefty dose of prescribed sleeping pills.

His wary gaze studied his surroundings as he passed, alert for anything that would indicate a trap or hidden alarm system. There was certainly a multitude of potential places to hide such devices amongst the clusters of expensive antiques, both Japanese and Western that almost littered the polished mahogany surfaces lining the hall. The combined effect of so many status symbols in such close proximity was ultimately overpowering. Tang Dynasty pottery sat next to a Louis XIV carriage clock and a Renaissance block of marble, carved to form a cherub with gilt wings. The resulting clash of cultures seemed to strip the works of their inherent beauty and instead created the sense of a fleamarket or bazaar. 

Refocusing his eyes away from the visual cacophony on show, Abyssinian stopped before the door that should lead to the bedroom. He paused to listen for any noise other than the slow and regular breathing which would hopefully indicate the target was sleeping peacefully on the other side of the wooden panelling. Not hearing any indication of activity that would cause concern, Abyssinian reached out a gloved hand and silently opened the door, slipping inside the room with effortless grace.

Hanashi's sleeping form was huddled under a mountain of quilts and blankets, a protective covering that may have caused trouble for bullets, but not the katana blade that was poised to strike. A few drops of Hanashi's husband's blood fell onto the cream bedding, but the blots were soon disguised by the spreading crimson of severed arteries. Abyssinian removed his sword from the corpse and turned to leave the room.

Movement in the corner caused him to tense, sword raised in readiness for a previously unseen adversary, but all that met his gaze was the polished surface of a large mirror. Abyssinian exhaled his breath in a soft snort of disgust at his skittishness and spun quickly to leave the room.

The edge of his blade knocked against a wooden stand, causing the cluster of Faberge eggs to wobble precariously. One rolled and fell to the floor, the delicate eggshell smashing open in an array of glittering fragments to reveal the hollow interior. The pieces crunched beneath his feet as he retreated from the room, paying no heed to the remains of the valuable item.

And that was where the mission had effectively ended. Weiss had returned to the Koneko without any further problems, intent on washing off the blood and grabbing what sleep they could before having to open the shop. Ignoring the two talkative younger assassins and their attempts to coax a word out of him, their redheaded leader simply retired to his room. He all but fell into his bed: desperate for sleep without the dreams that had so recently plagued him.

His subconscious shared his stubborn streak, however, and Ran found himself back in a room that he quickly recognised as being his father's study. Sat on the floor, in the middle of the cream rug, was Aya. She looked up at him and Ran was struck with the strong impression that she had been waiting for him. Instead of the warm smile that he had always associated with his younger sister, Aya treated him to a cold and analysing gaze. It made Ran feel distinctly uncomfortable, even more so when he realised it for the expression he wore himself these days. Dropping her eyes away from her elder brother, Aya turned to the large ornate bowl in front of her. "Finally. You've been getting a bit too proficient at the abandonment aspect lately, brother-dearest." She regarded the china in front of her and Ran recognised it for one of his mother's prized antiques. She normally kept it on a small table in the hallway and both he and Aya knew that touching the bowl was not permitted. He couldn't think what had possessed Aya to remove it from its usual place.

As if sensing his hesitance, Aya looked over at her brother with a faint smile that more closely resembled a smirk. "Well? Since you're here you might as well join me. Unless I've sunk that low in your estimation."

Fighting to keep the frown from his forehead and likewise from his sister's sight, Ran lowered himself to sit on the floor opposite Aya, the bowl between them. Nodding towards the china antique, Ran glanced at his sister's indifferent expression. "What are you doing with that?"

Aya smiled slightly, but did not immediately answer, choosing instead to reach for some items on the floor beside her. She produced two pale eggs and threw one over to Ran. "Really, brother of mine, I would have thought you'd remember this. You did have a certain talent for it after all." Aya paused to smirk at her brother before raising her spare hand to show the long hat pin she held in it. "Remember to watch the amount of force you use, or you'll crack the shell." Then, as if to demonstrate the point flashed downwards to pierce through the eggshell. Having made two holes, one at either end of the egg, Aya lifted the shell to her mouth. Blowing into the hole at the top caused the fluid contents of the egg to slowly force their way out through the other hole to gather in the bowl. 

Pausing in her task, Aya noticed that Ran had not yet performed the same action upon his own egg and raised a brow at her brother. "Honestly Ran, can't you recognise something dead when you see it? The only thing that egg is going to do is rot, so you might as well make it beautiful." Her tone was faintly admonishing, yet there was a bitter undertone to it. "What you hold in your hand is something that will never have any value in its current state."

Swallowing, Ran slowly reached for the long pin and positioned it carefully above his own egg. He glanced at his sister and paused. The dripping fluid from Aya's egg was no longer the clear egg white combined with the milky yellow of yolk, but a deep, almost purplish red. It gathered in glistening globules on the base of the eggshell before dropping into the bowl with a sickening noise. Ran was so fixated on the florid mass gathering in his mother's treasured china that he didn't notice his hands clenching until the egg in his grasp shattered, spilling over Ran's fingers with a noxious stench similar to that of decaying flesh. He looked down at his hands in horror as he surged to his feet, at the splattered chunks of gore that oozed through his hands to drop on the carpet around the fragments of eggshell.

Seeing the shell seemed to take Ran back to Hanashi's bedroom, complete with what had once been a Faberge egg and the corpse of Hanashi-san. Standing beside him and surveying the broken pieces of egg with a chiding expression was Aya. Showing no concern whatsoever for the body upon the bed, the young girl knelt down and began to collect the pieces together. "Honestly Ran, I would have thought you'd be more careful." She paused to study a section before looking at her brother coldly. "I would think you should feel some affinity with these."

Unable to discern the motives for his sister's hostile behaviour, Ran blinked at her helplessly. "I'm sorry?"

Aya regarded him for another moment before snorting in contempt and picking another exquisitely decorated egg from the table. "It's all about creating a façade, an image," she commented. "Paint up the outside, make it look pretty and impressive so no one will realise that the centre is cold and hollow. That if it appears pleasant enough no one will care that it's dead inside." Extending her arm out across the floor, Aya let the egg drop and shatter on the floor. Then she looked away from the fragments, facing her brother once more. "I don't know what you think you've achieved with this act, but my brother would never behave this way. Ran is dead and you're the empty shell that wears his name. And that is something I won't forgive you for."

Ran opened his mouth to protest, in much the same way that he had in every other variation of this dream. But the words stuck in his throat and he made no argument. After all, wasn't Aya right? Wasn't she merely voicing the conclusions Ran himself had reached?

Aya made a disgusted noise as she turned to sit delicately on the edge of the bed, not bothered in the least with the sticky red fluid that congealed upon the sheets. "You can't even defend yourself as even you with all your stubbornness can recognise the truth. It shouldn't be any wonder that you surround yourself with death and suffering; after all, you've lost the ability to care for anything."

"But I care for you," the words were barely discernable as Ran forced them from his mouth in a dry whisper.

Aya laughed. "But I'm gone. And I'm never coming back." She leant back further, pushing her hands backwards so the blood seeped through her fingers. "All because of you," she added. "I wonder, what kind of brother does that make you?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ken tried to enter the Koneko as quietly and unobtrusively as possible. Theoretically, it shouldn't have been too hard for an assassin. However theory failed to take into account his co-worker's unnatural awareness and also his temper. A hand clamped down on his shoulder with a grip of iron and Ken was spun to face the redhead's ire. "What time is it?"

Ken sighed. "Ten past nine."

"And when did your shift start?"

"Quarter to." Ken had to bite back the irritated response he wanted to give Ran, but the older man's mood had been so foul as of late that even the football player wasn't dumb enough to risk it. Ever since a certain amnesiac blond had gone wandering off to pastures new in the midst of a fight, there had frankly been no living with the redhead. Ran had always been a little bit tricky to deal with, but the guy had developed a bitch of a new persona and Ken was determined to have nothing more to do with brainwashing and personality transplants even if it meant spending the rest of his life in an underground bunker.

Moving back to the subject at hand, Ran had released the younger man and silently returned to his flower displays. Ken decided to regard this as a completed reprimand and pointed hint to get to work. He tied his apron off and moved behind the cash register to put through the first of the day's sales. He worked steadily, his mind falling into the almost robotic motions as he turned his thoughts to the events had has transpired since Yohji had upped and left a little over a month ago.

The most notable effect had been Ran's immediate withdrawal from any attempt at civility or social interaction. He had quit his work at the hospital soon after, telling Birman in no uncertain terms that he had no interest in saving lives when his only talent was taking them. Then, pissy persona now firmly in place, the redhead had retreated to his room. And there he remained unless drawn out by shifts in the Koneko or the promise of shedding some blood. To be perfectly honest, Ken didn't care what kind of shady links Yohji may have with the other assassin groups in Tokyo who were so willing to kill any members of Weiss; he wasn't bothered if the blond revealed himself to have some freaky superpowers like Schwarz. He just wanted the man back so there was a form of barrier between him and the stroppy redhead. Call it cowardice or self-defence, Ken was simply sick of being Ran's verbal punchbag because someone dared to walk out on him.

A shadow fell over the brunet athlete and Ken looked up to see Birman smiling at him. Not impressed by her friendly expression in the least, Ken groaned and let his head fall forwards to rest against his chest. "No. No more missions. That redheaded bastard is already working us to the bone."

The Kritiker agent shook her head with another smile. "Don't worry, I have no intention of adding to your workload. However, I do need to speak with you all as soon as is convenient." Then the brunette simply moved to one side and began to wait for Fujimiya to notice her presence. 

It didn't take long, judging by the way the eldest member of Weiss' eyes narrowed, but it was still quite a while before Ran decided to walk over to join the pair. He treated Birman to a prime specimen from his collection of glares as his eyes noticed a distinct lack of any telltale videotape. "Why are you here?" Fujimiya demanded bluntly.

Birman simply smiled pleasantly, not seeming in the least bit perturbed by the redhead's manner. "If you would be so kind as to close the shop, Fujimiya-san. I have something I need to discuss with you all."

Ran's eyes narrowed again, but he nevertheless moved away to herd out the customers as requested. Birman didn't wait for him to finish closing the shop, but simply began to make her way into the basement. Ken glanced over at the rigid form of Fujimiya and decided to go and retrieve Omi from his revision session rather than face Ran in yet another one of his tempers.

All gathered expectantly in the basement a short while later, Weiss regarded a rather nervous looking Birman. Clearing her throat, the brunette seemed to mentally shrug and launched into her announcement. "Your position has been compromised and we have intelligence that indicates you have been targeted by several groups intent on killing you. As both employees of Kritiker and an essential tool with which to keep criminal elements in line, we cannot afford to risk your safety. You are going to have to leave immediately."

Ken swallowed and tried to appear unconcerned. "I'm sure we'd be able to manage, but I'm not turning down the chance of a break. Villa Weiss sounds pretty good to me." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Omi observing his casual attitude and being visibly reassured.

Birman however frowned slightly. "That's not what we had in mind, I'm afraid."

From his position in the corner, Ran snorted. "The safehouse has also been compromised. I assume this is due to some sort of hack while Kritiker were attempting to rebuild after the explosion?"

Birman nodded curtly. "They have the locations to every place we could possibly think to send you. In addition, they know your appearances and enough other information to make lying low all but impossible. Japan is no longer safe."

Ken spluttered and held up his hands in a warding off gesture. "Wait a minute … Japan? We can't find anywhere to hide out in an entire fucking country?"

Omi also looked taken aback by the announcement. "Surely the threat can't be that serious. Hiding out in another country sounds extreme … and wouldn't we stick out even more when surrounded by unfamiliar customs and languages?"

"Languages?" Ken croaked. "I don't speak any other languages … none of us do! Fuck, I knew I should have tried harder at English."

"Who are the assassin group?" Ran demanded, ignoring the reactions of his two teammates. "You obviously know specifics or you wouldn't be here."

Birman sighed again. "I would have thought it obvious. Schwarz are out for your blood, gentlemen."

TBC


	2. Chapter Two

Cat's Cradle: Chapter Two

INCIDENTAL RAMBLING: I don't think I mentioned this earlier, but this fic will focus a lot more on Schuldig/Sascha and Yohji/Yue's friendship. There are even going to be some relationships developing in addition to that of Yohji/Ran, which should please those certain individuals who were demanding to know why Crawford had to be such a wanker to Schu and one person (who will remain nameless) who asserted that without so much sexual frustration, the likable characters would all easily be able to kick arse, save the day and shag like bunnies. To which I reply thus: ha, chance would be a fine thing. And once again, sorry that everybody seems to have at least two names … I know it's confusing.

Despite the fact that the season was only barely spring, with the promise of summer a long way off, the warm sun and clear skies had made the day pleasantly warm. Lounging on a chair, Sascha tilted his head back in order to feel the warmth of the rays on his face. The sound of a snort from across the table caused him to right himself and grin at the teenager sitting opposite him.

"You remind me of a cat," Yue informed him with his usual smirk. "Sunning yourself like that." The blond flicked his overlong hair away from his face and sniggered quietly. "You're vain too."

Not in the least bit concerned, Sascha haughtily readjusted his sunglasses and stuck his tongue out at his friend. "That's rich coming from you. You spend longer on your hair than your girlfriend."

"Maybe that's because Asuka keeps her hair really short!" Yue shot back. "If I were ever crazy enough to cut my hair, then it would be more equal," the blond paused for a moment, pulling a strand of long and silky hair in front of his face as he considered it, before dropping it with a laugh. "But that's never going to happen. You'll have to kill me first."

//Cold concrete, scraping at his skin and leaving bloody stains, the sounds of struggle, a lone gunshot, the wavering figure of a blond, gun raised to point directly at him//

The waiter arrived, carrying the two large glasses of beer with condensation already forming on the glasses. He placed them on the table between the two young teenagers and Yue wasted no time in reaching for his glass. "Anyway," Yue remarked blithely. "At least I'm getting some and not wasting my time mooning over cold American bastards." The youth took another drink and grinned. "You'll never catch me going all gooey over some ice prince. Way too much effort involved there."

//Violet eyes narrowed from a mixture of anger and pain that was impossible to discern on his face, flash of light on a drawn blade, the once familiar blond standing at the redhead's impassive side//

Reality blurred for a moment and Sascha //Schuldig// blinked it back into focus. From his position across the table, Yue's grin had progressed into a fully-fledged leer. "Lost you there for a minute, did I?" the blond asked with fake innocence. He shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. "You've got it worse than I thought if I don't even have to mention his name to cause you to descend into mindless drooling."

Sascha wondered if Yue was solely responsible for the headache that seemed to be forming in one of his temples. Rubbing at that particular part of his head he glared at his friend. "Sometimes you can be such a drama queen," he muttered.

Yue paused with the glass raised once again to his lips, one eyebrow raised questioningly. Then he replaced the drink and laughed. "Then I've obviously been hanging out with you too much and there's no saving me!"

"Some friend you are," Sascha grumbled with mostly feigned irritation. "Just shoot me when I'm down, why don't you?"

//Pain, sudden but somehow anticipated. The world lurching, appearing to tip and spin, the realisation that is it he who is falling, his blood spilt//

When the world tipped back into focus again, Yue was leaning across the table looking worried. "Listen; you have to keep it together. They're trying to break their way in."

Sascha paused and blinked at his friend. "What? What's happening?" Aware of sudden quiet around them, the redhead turned to find their previously busy surroundings deserted. Wondering just how so many people could have suddenly vanished without it registering on his telepathy at all, Sascha //Schuldig// half-rose out of his chair. Yue's gently restraining grip stopped him.

"Calm down," Yue instructed. "They're trying to scare you, to make you panic."

"What do you mean?" Sascha //Schuldig// demanded. "What are they trying to do?"

Yue's grip tightened for a moment and when it loosened again from the telepath's wrist they weren't surrounded by Munich's cobbled streets and distinctive buildings anymore. Instead there was a gently sloping mountainside covered with numerous trees. Yue stepped away from his companion and took a seat on a nearby fallen log. Reaching into a pocket to produce a packet of cigarettes, Yue sparked up and inhaled deeply. "It might render the whole clean mountain air thing completely useless, but you have to admit there wasn't a better spot to grab a smoke."

Schuldig //Sascha// moved over to stand in front of the youthful form of his old friend. "Am I dead? Or is this some kind of dream?"

Yue squinted up at him, suddenly seeming older, before blowing out another lungful of blue-grey smoke and stubbing out the rest of the cigarette on the rough bark beneath him. "You're not dead, just in a coma. You've retreated into your mind, which is where we are right now."

"So this is a dream then."

The blond shook his head again. "Not quite. We're in your memories and you will be able to influence where you go and who you meet to a certain extent. But it won't be fantasy. Only what you have experienced."

Schuldig narrowed his eyes again. "Then how come I don't remember this particular scene ever taking place? Or the last one?"

Yue grinned slightly. "That's the interesting part. I'm the summation of all your memories of me. I have all the knowledge and skills that you remember me having. Like other people from your past that you were close to, I don't need to spout out old conversations. You knew me well enough to subconsciously know how I'll behave in any situation so I have free reign to do just that."

"So why are you helping me?" Schuldig demanded. "I trashed your mind, stole your boyfriend's sister and let him think she was dead … why aren't you jumping at the chance for revenge?"

Yue shrugged. "Don't know about any of that. You have to remember, I'm not the person Yohji, or whatever I'm supposed to be calling myself, is now. I'm a copy. So don't expect me to be able to keep you updated with my current whereabouts and the like." The blond sighed. "I keep drifting off the main problem here. Maybe Asuka can explain things better …"

"I don't think that's going to be necessary."

At the sound of Gil-Martin's voice, both Yue and Schuldig spun to confront the Elder. "What the hell do you think you're doing in here?" Schuldig demanded. "Get the fuck out of my head."

The Esset telepath tutted as he shook his head disapprovingly. "But you're the one responsible for me being here. Just like everything else you see, I am nothing more than a copy of your recollections. You can't kill me or get me to leave."

"I was going to warn you about this," Yue muttered from behind Schuldig. "The rest of us are doing our best to keep you sane and keep those meddling bastards out, but there's others …"

"That would like nothing better than to see you broken and docile," Gil-Martin finished. "And we're going to do everything in our power to ensure it happens."

Schuldig felt Yue's hand close around his wrist again and let himself be tugged backwards, away from the Elder. "We have to go," Yue told him. "Somewhere we can find back-up. If you let him, he'll keep you reliving the worst parts of your life."

The surroundings spun and faded once again. Schuldig watched silently and wondered just how he was supposed to be influencing this when he appeared to have no control over things at all. He also wondered just how long it would take before he went insane or if he'd already reached that point and just failed to notice.

~~

If Yohji had ever been to Paris before, it was one of the many events that had been wiped from his mind. He'd had a pretty clear idea of what to expect though, elegant buildings and cobbled streets filled with insane drivers. He hadn't expected it to be so _grey_ though. The stone of the buildings and the roads matched perfectly with the cloudy skies that threatened rain, but were unable to produce anything more than a constant, morale-sapping drizzle. Yohji wondered if this was part of some elaborate brainwashing technique that would leave him completely loyal to the group of psychopaths he had been forced to accompany here.

Actually, even Yohji could admit that wasn't entirely fair. As much as he would like to maintain that he despised Paris due to its miserable climate and unfriendly locals, a large part was probably generated by the fact that he was in one of the most romantic cities in the world while Ran was half a world away hating his guts. Running off in the fashion that the blond had might not have been the best way to take his leave from the other man. At the very least, it didn't leave Yohji thinking much of his chances should he ever get up the nerve to see the redhead again. Unless he was betting on his chances of being met with a drawn katana and a low greeting of 'shi-ne'. He was able to recognise a burnt bridge and this one had taken out most of the riverside in the explosion.

As for the group marginally responsible for Kudoh behaving like such an ass, Yohji suspected that Hunt weren't quite so villainous as he liked to see them. Odin was still a complete megalomaniac pillock, but the guy was British and had a snobby accent so that was just to be expected. Mika was genuinely trying her hardest to befriend him and he sometimes felt a little bad at seeing her obvious disappointment when he failed to reciprocate, but her habit of calling him Yue freaked him out a little. Pan and Legion were more laidback when dealing with him. Clearly not having previously known him well gave them an advantage over Mika, for they were more than happy to call him by the preferred name of Yohji. So it wasn't technically his real name; it was the one Ran had given him and for that reason more than anything else, he was going to stick with it. 

In any case, it was both an acknowledgement that he had made his bed, and for the foreseeable future it was minus one Fujimiya Ran, and had to lie in it and an attempt to make things a little less miserable for him that saw him currently out with the other Hunt underlings. Pan, despite continually asserting that Lyon was far superior (being his home), grudgingly admitted that he knew several Parisian nightspots that were "tolerable". No more reason had been needed for Mika to suggest a trip out away from Odin's somewhat stifling presence and when even Legion seemed relatively upbeat about the prospect, Yohji decided to tag along. Whatever he might feel about the situation, he was stuck with these people and at least attempting to be grown up about it might make the whole thing a touch less painful.

A couple of hours later, sat with the others at a small round table in a very dimly lit club, and Yohji reflected that getting to know his colleagues earlier might have alerted him to the fact that Pan's definition of "tolerable" was somewhat left of centre. The low arching ceiling that betrayed the venue's previous incarnation as a wine-cellar was displayed to full advantage by the candles that were clustered everywhere in red glass holders that seemed to bear more than a passing similarity to the ones seen at Notre Dame. When Pan had casually pulled just such a glass holder from his coat and presented it to the doorman as an entry token, Yohji had been confused, but now it was all clear. Hunt's offering to the shrine of Catholic Kleptomania was now lost among the many others, but it was clear that the whimsical entry policy had led to an interesting collection of patrons within the club's confines.

Freely pouring the red wine Pan had ordered into their collected glasses, Legion looked over at Yohji and shook his head slightly. "Nae offence, but ye'll have tae at least try tae learn some language other than Japanese. It might help wit' settling in."

"At the very least, it's not as though you'll be learning from scratch," Pan added as he swilled the liquid in his glass. "Hidden away in those recesses of your mind should be at least a smattering of European languages."

"I do seem to have a habit of switching into German," Yohji allowed. "But seeing as I'm never conscious of the transition, it doesn't help a lot."

Mika smiled at him encouragingly, her face already slightly flushed from the alcohol. "I guess we can teach you the basics. You always were really good at languages so I don't see it taking you long."

Perhaps noticing the look of discomfort on Yohji's face, Pan smoothly refilled the blond's glass. "You need to drink more wine. We're finally in a country that makes palatable stuff so appreciate it while you can. The stuff they sell in England isn't even fit for vinegar."

"Is that where we're headed next?" Yohji asked.

Legion snorted. "As if we have the slightest idea what goes through that pompous Sassenach's mind."

Anything else the Scot may have been about to add was drowned out by a loud cry that rang through the club. Legion turned to glare at Pan with an expression even more sour than the one he usually wore. "So that's why you dragged us here."

Even the normally excitable Mika looked a bit hesitant at the owner of the voice who was obviously approaching from somewhere behind Yohji. Intrigued by the reactions, Yohji turned around to see just who all the fuss was about.

Moving towards them with an exaggerated gliding motion was a slim form covered in sequins and feathers. Sweeping around the table, the heavily made up figure all but fell into Pan's lap, swatting him firmly about the head at the same time. "Méchant! Sneaking in here with him so I wouldn't notice! You didn't honestly think it would work?"

"It had tae have been worth a shot," Legion muttered into his glass.

The newcomer swivelled away from Pan to face the rest of the table. From this angle, the somewhat questionable gender was resolved in Yohji's mind as being an elaborate drag act. Inspecting the sullen Scot's face, the stranger turned back to face Pan. "Merde! You're still hanging around with this deadbeat? No wonder you had to come and see me. He hasn't got you trying to slit your wrists yet, has he?"

While Pan just laughed, Legion leaned slightly towards the shell-shocked Mika and Yohji. "Meet Teiresias. The Delphic Unit's guilty wee secret."

"Enchanté," Teiresias trilled. "Now what precisely brings you to my little den, hmmm?"

"We were wondering how you felt about organising a little coup d'etat," Pan said. "Whispers on the wind inform us that the end of Esset is drawing near."

"And I suppose you three are selling tickets?" Teiresias murmured with a roll of thickly mascaraed eyes.

"Not quite," Pan smiled. "But perhaps a little look to see what's on the cards would be a pleasant gesture for your old friends? Yohji here is still unaware of your little talent."

Visibly preening, Teiresias reached into a pocket to produce a deck of playing cards. Passing them over to the still somewhat confused blond, Teiresias instructed; "Shuffle the cards and then pass them back to me. We'll see how much I can notice beyond your little ability."

Yohji raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told. "Shouldn't you be using tarot cards if you're planning on reading my future?" he asked.

Teiresias looked insulted. "I am a professional. I don't need props. I could read your future with Pokémon cards if I wanted."

"Now there's a thought," Mika muttered.

Taking the cards back from Yohji, Teiresias flipped the first three over onto the table and then frowned at them slightly. Tapping the first card, the Knave of Spades, with a red-lacquered nail, the seer began the reading. "It seems Esset have yet to send the big guns after you, but do not underestimate the threat. Even a lapdog has teeth. You must remain focused, the secret to success lies with your past." Pausing over the next two cards, the three of spades and another Knave –this one with a red heart printed in the corner and a somewhat more melancholy expression than Yohji usually remembered the cards having, Teiresias glanced over at Pan and Legion. "A former friend is on the brink, victim to past mistakes and current guilt. You have the power to help, but it will not be easy."

"Sascha," Mika murmured under her breath, her expression one of abject misery.

Ignoring the Japanese girl, Teiresias briskly laid down three more cards. Yet another Knave glared up with narrowed eyes, perhaps annoyed at not being next to his fellow suit the King of Hearts. Separating the pair was the Ace of Spades. The man snorted slightly. "You and your obsession with your love life are the biggest threat to what you hope to achieve."

Now it was Yohji's turn to frown at the gathered rogue agents. "Isn't that convenient. Why am I not surprised that you don't want me to have anything more to do with Ran?"

Teiresias looked around the group in displeasure. "What have you been up to now?" Not waiting to hear the answer, the seer reached across to pat Yohji's hand sympathetically. "That's not the reason for my warning. The swordsman is due to die at the hands of one whom he loves. I would not wish it to be you."

Any response to that failed to leave Yohji's mouth as his heart seemed to stop beating.


	3. Chapter Three

Cat's Cradle: Chapter Three

Author's Note: Big delay on this one due to a rapid succession of finals, graduation (yay!), trip away and discovering that my laptop upon which all plot outlines and chapters were stored had crashed and taken all my data with it. I was not best pleased to put it mildly. Anyway, part three take two is now here.

Yohji made his way through the sakura grove with no real thought as to where he was heading. He wasn't overly concerned though, after all, he had no idea where he was so where he ended up probably made very little difference in the greater scheme of things. Through the clouds of pale pink petals, the blond thought he could see what looked like a lake. What he hadn't seen, but soon became obvious, was that someone had already beaten him to a seated spot on the bank. Yohji stood staring at that distinctive head of crimson hair and silently cursed all transvestite French Seers for putting thoughts of the redhead firmly back into his subconscious.

Senses obvious alerted by his approach, Ran half-turned to face the blond. His violet eyes widened momentarily as he saw who stood behind him, but then the man's face fell back into its typical blankness. The redhead turned back to face the water. "Figures."

Yohji blinked at the sound of that low voice, unprepared for the longing it triggered and fighting down the twin urges to either jump the man or turn and run. "What does?"

"That it would be you standing there. I was expecting Aya, but of course, she's dead. You, on the other hand, just aren't around any more." There was a pause, then a quiet sigh as Ran's shoulders slumped. "I miss you."

Yohji cursed his subconscious for making the man appear in one of his rare unguarded and vulnerable moods. How was he supposed to convince himself that his actions regarding Ran had been for the best? With a sigh of his own, Yohji reflected that this was, after all, a dream. He reached into his pocket and was almost surprised to find his cigarettes. It didn't stop him from removing one pale cylinder from the pack and sparking up though, apart from anything else, Yohji had the feeling he was going to need the cigarette's calming effect. He took a deep, fortifying drag and then moved to sit next to Ran. "You sure about that," he asked in question to the man's statement. "After running out on you like I did, I figured you'd be looking to rip me a new one."

"The thought did cross my mind," Ran confessed ruefully. "But I felt that you might feel dissuaded from staying with me."

Yohji tried to smile, but his face muscles seemed unable to produce more than a weak twitch of his lips. "I'm sorry for running out on you," he said quietly. "I did it to protect you."

Ran let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Protect me? Why? I'm a killer Yohji. More nights than not, I go out to kill someone I've never met because I'm told to. Because that's what I get paid for. At first I told myself that it was for Aya; that I would do anything so long as Aya received the best care and maybe woke up again some day. Then my work got Aya killed. But I still had you, and I thought I could manage as I could protect you. Stop you from becoming the same as me. That didn't work either." The redhead fell silent after the uncharacteristically long speech and stared hard at the ground for a few moments. Yohji simply watched, sensing that the smaller man wasn't quite finished yet. He was proved right when Ran raised his head to look at the blond with weary violet eyes. "Don't fall in the same trap, Yohji," he said. "I'm going to wind up dead anyway."

"Don't say that," Yohji protested, reaching out to grab the other man's arm. "You're going to stay alive and as soon as I can get this mess sorted out, I'll come back to Japan for you."

Ran's gaze had dropped to study the tanned hand that was wrapped so firmly around his own pale forearm. Yohji didn't miss the faint mockery of a smile that darted briefly across his one-time lover's lips. "You're assuming," Ran stated flatly as he reached down and freed himself from the blond's grasp, "that I'll still be in Japan."

Yohji's eyes narrowed. "Already regressed to pissy bastard, I see," he muttered. "Shit, Ran, change the fucking record."

The redhead shrugged and turned to stare back out over the waters. "Can a bird sing the only song it knows or can it learn a new song?" he murmured with the air of quoting something.

Yohji rolled his eyes. How typical of the redhead to find something so morbid-sounding, probably from some hideously depressing novel he had hidden away in that room of his. "I wouldn't know about that," he commented, tapping the substantial column of ash away from his cigarette before raising it to his lips. "But you're not even trying."

"And is that any worse than running headlong back into it, the moment it seems you could finally leave it all behind you?" Ran asked acidly.

Yohji shrugged. "Wouldn't have happened. You were still there." He regretted the words almost the instant they left his mouth, saw the way they made the other man almost visibly retract under that ice persona.

The redhead rose his feet and silently struck off on a path through the sakura. Yohji tried to follow, but soon lost sight of the other man admist the swirls of pale petals. He scowled and swore. That fucking hotel lobby recurring dream had almost been preferable to this.

"You know, when you suggested talking a stroll through the city I expected to see more … city," Ken remarked to the redhead who was calmly resting in the shade of one of the numerous trees. "I'm finding it hard to believe we're even in one at the moment."

"That's probably why it's called the Tiergarten, Ken," Omi teased as he flipped through the guidebook. "Apparently it was created as the royal hunting grounds and that's where the name comes from."

"I felt it was an appropriate spot for the hunted to hide out," Ran remarked, a faint twist to his lips that could have been the indicator of humour.

It was enough to make Ken pause and look at the older man more closely. "And yet despite that you seem to be in a very good mood," he observed warily. "Considering we're in a foreign country and only one of us speaks the language with any proficiency."

Omi rolled his eyes. "It's not that hard, Ken. Even Ran's picking some up."

Ken snorted. "Not that hard? I've never encountered so many different ways of saying 'the'."

"The pronunciation is quite straightforward," the crimson-haired assassin supplied. "Compared to French, which is the only other language I can even attempt to speak."

"And football is a really popular sport here in Europe," Omi added. "They're all completely obsessed with it."

"That is something, I guess," Ken conceded reluctantly.

It seemed to be enough. Omi beamed at the brunet before bouncing onwards to another small clearing complete with a small lake. Ken watched him go and refrained from adding that the football argument would have held more weight if they'd been in Dortmund or Munich. The young blond seemed to be acting as though the trio were merely on holiday; taking in the various sights and suggesting outings that he thought would interest at least one other member of the group. More often than not, it was Ran agreeing to venture out and about; lured time and again by the plethora of museums, galleries and various historical and cultural monuments. Ken felt as though he could now personally write his own reference book on German history and culture.

To be totally honest though, Ken quite liked this city. It lacked the sheer crush of Tokyo, but there was a real energy to the place nonetheless. Even if that was slightly harder to keep in mind amidst the calm of the immense park compared to the glass and steel of Potsdamer Platz and the Sony Zentrum where Ken had heard the first bit of Japanese spoken by someone other than his fellow assassins thanks to an OV screening of a fairly recent anime film. Yeah, Ken had to admit that Weiss' choice of destination had been a pretty good choice.

But he'd sooner eat his own foot than admit that to Ran. Which reminded him; "Hey, guys. Are we planning on getting something to eat soon? Or is Ran on another of his 'starvation is character building' kicks?"

Omi started to laugh, but managed to catch himself in time glancing over at Fujimiya before smiling at the brunet. "I think we could all probably go for lunch. Did you have anywhere in particular in mind?"

Ken shrugged. "There's a whole bunch of café type places under the station over at Hackescher Markt. We can grab a table out in the sunshine."

Omi frowned. "Isn't there a rather large store dedicated to a well-known sporting brand very close by?"

Ken grinned. "Maybe. But that can wait until after we've eaten. There's a good comic shop there as well, does manga in a whole range of languages."

Ran shot a look in Ken's direction that from anyone else would have been a very intimidating glare. Compared to the redhead's usual standard, it was bordering on indulgent. "I don't see why you should worry about a language barrier when you only look at the pictures in the first place."

"Oi!"

"But I think something to eat would be a good idea," Ran continued, obviously satisfied with the reaction he'd provoked. "We can catch the S-Bahn there, right?"

Omi nodded, being the only one who'd committed Berlin's entire public transport system to memory. "And it won't be a long wait either; no matter what train we catch, it'll pass through Hackescher Markt." The blond paused and shot Ken a teasing look. "So even you couldn't get lost this time, Ken."

Ken groaned. "Not you as well." He moved to catch Omi in a mock choke-hold when he noticed Ran hadn't moved and was looking off in another direction. Ken automatically tensed, glancing amongst the greenery. "Something wrong, Ran?"

Ran glanced briefly over at Ken before shaking his head. "No. You two go on ahead, I'll meet you there."

Ken frowned. "What? Why? I thought you said…"

"There's something I have to do first." Ran glared at Ken. "Or do I have to babysit you all day/"

Ken opened his mouth to splutter a retort, but Omi was faster. The youngest Weiss firmly clamped one hand over Ken's mouth and the other around his bicep as he began to pull the other man towards the S-Bahn station. "That's fine Ran," Omi called. "Don't be too long! Do you want us to order for you?"

Ran shook his head. "I'll be fine." Without another glance in the direction of the other two men, Ran turned and strode off through the park.

Omi waited until he was out of hearing range before removing his hand from Ken's mouth. "Come on then," Omi said cheerfully. "I'm actually old enough to drink in this country so let me make the most of it."

Having arrived at the Potsdamer Platz station, Ran hurried onto the S1 train that pulled to a stop as he reached the platform. Perhaps because of the pleasant weather, the S-Bahn was mostly deserted. Rather than take one of the many seats, however, Ran chose to stand by the doors. He leant against one of poles that passengers were supposed to hold onto and stared idly at his reflection in the glass as the train sped through the underground section of its route. Aya's earring swung lazily from his ear and he brushed his fingers against the metal. A memento of his failure to protect those he loved. Ran narrowed his eyes as his reflection glared back with equal determination. He was not going to let Yohji add himself to that list of names.

Ran got off the train at Oranienburger Strasse and wrinkled his nose slightly at the sudden assault of smells that filled the air. He made his way down the street until he reached a small café. Ducking into the shaded interior, Ran nodded at the barman who then jabbed a thumb toward a door in the back before returning to loading glasses into the dishwasher. Without another glance at the café's few patrons, the redhead pushed open the indicated door and stepped inside.

"I must admit, I didn't expect you to show, Crasher."

Ran narrowed his eyes at the figure that sat in the gloom, barely visible save for the lit cigarette. "And I must admit, I expected you to know that I'm not connected to Crashers anymore. Too much time drinking beer and listening to yourself talk instead of other people perhaps."

The figure laughed. "If that's the case, what are you doing here?"

"I'm beginning to wonder," Ran muttered as he slid into an empty chair at the table that took up most of the room. "Times must be hard if you're reduced to working in a broom closet."

The figure took another drag of the cigarette before leaning forwards to reveal a demonically grinning visage complete with a neatly trimmed goatee and dark, curled hair. "What, feeling as though you're regressing a bit?"

Ran scowled. "Your sense of humour hasn't improved, I see. Now are you going to be useful or simply irritating, Argus?"

Argus scrunched up his nose. "After sitting through your attitude, I'm not sure. This is outside the rules anyway – I'm only helping out Crashers."

"Which explains why Knight told me you were hiding out here rather than in Japan where they could make some use of you."

Abruptly switching to a much more professional demeanour, Argus straightened, his face fading back into the gloom. "Well I suppose I'll bend the rules this once; you'll be pleased to here we've had word of your little blond. He was last spotted in Paris, but we have reason to believe that was nothing more than a brief stopover. They're making for Edinburgh."

Ran nodded absently. "What about the others he's with? Have you discovered any more on them?"

"All ex-Rosenkreuz members with the freaky abilities to match," Argus sucked his breath in through clenched teeth. "To be honest, I don't know how you're expecting to fight them. They're obviously good otherwise Rosenkreuz would have killed them by now. That group doesn't like competition."

Ran snorted. "But whatever parlour tricks they may have, they're still human. They make mistakes."

Argus sighed. "You really have no idea just what you're up against, do you?"

Crawford looked up as Aya knocked on the door that stood ajar, peering round into the room. "Brad? We haven't seen you for a while. Is everything okay?"

Crawford leaned back slightly in his chair as he reached over to turn his monitor off. "You're the empath, you tell me." He realised his mistake the moment he saw the triumphant expression flash across the young girl's face and wondered if she had been this unrelenting with her brother.

Closing the door behind her, Aya all but stalked over the empty chair that sat on the opposite side of Crawford's desk. She flopped into it, and swung the chair lazily from side to side with one foot as she stared at Crawford. Not to be intimidated by the young Japanese teenager, Crawford stared impassively back. Or so he thought until Aya sighed and rolled her eyes. "Ran used to try that as well. It got to the stage where you tell how genuinely upset he was by the quality of his poker face." She leaned back more in the chair, pulling her leg up to tuck under the one that was still making her swing. "Incidentally, if I was using that as my guide, I'd say you were about two seconds away from completely breaking down."

Crawford nodded and smiled politely at the girl. "I can assure you that I will be doing no such thing."

Aya nodded. "You're right. No matter how much you want to just break down, it's not going to do you any good in the long run. Plus I don't have any tissues with me." The younger Fujimiya tugged at a stray strand of hair. "So I hope all this time moping behind closed doors was well spent and you now have a plan to get Schu back?"

Crawford bit back the protest that he wasn't moping; he'd fallen victim to that trick too many times already, and flicked the monitor back on. "It's going to be tricky. We're under close scrutiny, as is Schuldig. Even getting out of the country is going to take a fair bit of doing and the minute we leave, it's going to be obvious we're making for Rosenkreuz." Crawford looked at the information on the screen and wondered silently just why he was going to this much trouble for a man who'd all but ordered Void to shoot him. What were the chances of Schuldig working out his issues before they arrived? Something soft impacted against his head, knocking his glasses squint and the American looked up to see Aya glaring at him – another hair scrunchie ready to follow the first.

"Stop that!" she snapped. "If you're going to market yourself as the callous ice-block, then stop moping!" Aya huffed out her breath and scowled – for a moment resembling her brother. "You men are all completely hopeless!" she exclaimed. "You try and deny your feelings until you've created a complete mess out of what could have been a wonderful and uncomplicated relationship and then agonise about the damage you've done instead of trying to fix it. I'm glad I've spent so long stuck in a hospital bed and I'm glad my emotionally retarded brother couldn't handle visiting me, it saved me from a lot of hassle!"

Crawford tried to maintain his calm façade, but he could feel it slipping to his eternal embarrassment. Beaten by a teenage girl, he reflected, Schuldig would laugh himself silly. Then he remembered just why Schuldig wasn't around.

"You're doing it again!" Aya exclaimed. "You can't keep your thoughts off Schu for more than thirty seconds and you try to tell me that he's just a team member."

"He is just a-" Crawford was prevented from finishing his sentence by the sudden lapful of Aya he received as the girl flung her arms around his neck. Then he realised she was sniffling and awkwardly patted her on the back.

"I miss him too, you know," Aya muttered into the front of his shirt. "After everyone else forgot about me, he kept me company. I don't want him lying in a coma half a world away. I want him here with us."

Crawford settled on putting his hands gently on the girl's shoulders. He looked ridiculous waving them about. "We'll get him back," Crawford told the top of Aya's head. That didn't seem to help much, so the American decided to try a cautious, "I miss him too."

For a moment he thought the girl was sobbing again, but he realised her shoulders were shaking with laughter. Aya raised her head to look at Crawford with teary eyes and laughed again, shaking her head. "No, you don't," she said.

Crawford frowned. "I know my actions may not always have appeared to display any consideration for Schuldig, but he is a valued member of Schwarz and I want him back as soon as possible. Of course I miss him."

Aya wiped her eyes as she leaned back slightly. "No, that's not what I meant. I can feel how much you want him back, but you don't feel the same sort of loss. It's not in your emotions." The girl frowned as she tried to express what she felt. "It's like he's just in another room or something, still with you, but just not in your immediate vicinity right now."

Crawford blinked at Aya and not for the first time wondered just how such a powerful empath could have gone undiscovered for so long. "I'm linked to him," the American explained. "I suppose that means on some level I can still feel him in my thoughts, even if he is unconscious." He tried a slight smile. "He certainly is a lot quieter, anyway."

Aya smiled back at him before her gaze drifted into the middle distance. The girl tipped her head vaguely to one side and a faint frown crossed her features. "This link," she said slowly. "It's still active even though Schu's so far away and unconscious?"

Crawford nodded. "But extremely weak, I'm barely aware of it unless I concentrate."

Aya began to chew on her lip as her thoughts worked even faster. "So then … does it go both ways? Could Schuldig pick up on your thoughts?"

Crawford blinked in surprise. "I don't know."

Aya rolled her eyes. "Well hadn't you better try? We're going to need all the help we can get to rescue Schu."


End file.
